Jackal Among Snakes

Galamon rode his horse onwards, leaning on its head. He felt the exposed flesh on his torso burn, and now that the archers had perished and deprived him of distraction, he could feel the pain of the sunlight. He tried to focus on the pain to drive away the bestial curse of vampirism swirling through his blood. He kept his eyes fixed on the wooden palisades ahead. It was not much longer before his task would be finished.

When he came near, he jumped from the horse. It neighed in pain, and the sheer force toppled the creature to the ground. Galamon cleared the wooden stakes easily, crashing amidst some jars full of water. He heard screams from the houses beside him—they sounded loud, so sharp were his senses. He crawled away from the sunlight like a deranged spider, retreating further into the shadows.

He could smell blood all around him. The smell of the ocean wind carried it. He could smell it seeping into the wooden planks at the docks, could smell it in the earth, the grass… he kept his hand on his neck, squeezing tightly. The world seemed tinted red. Galamon kept to the shadows, waiting until the beast realized it was caged; that he owned it, not the other way around.

He heard rushed footfalls heading towards him, and with it, a scent of blood. He heard the heartbeat—frantic, fast, driven by fear and excitement.

“Galamon,” a voice called out. “Hot damn. I knew you could do it.”

It’s calling for me, Galamon noticed. The heartbeat is calling for me.

“Listen. I know that you just finished with that one thing, but I don't have time to mince words. Where are you? Damned dark back here. Could you come out?”

It wants me to come out. It’s not afraid of what might happen.

Galamon lunged forward towards the welcoming voice, throwing his helmet aside. He grasped the prey and fell on it. His sharp teeth sunk into something hot, and he drank. It tasted sweet—like a cup of water after traversing a desert, or a piece of meat after a long hunt. This was the best feeling, Galamon supposed.

His prey struggled with weak, vain hits at his side, pushing and struggling. Galamon did not care. He held on tightly, enjoying the blood. This seemed especially pure and powerful—a mages’ blood, he could tell. It had a faint tinge to it—magic in the blood.

“Think…” the voice whispered, struggling against Galamon.

Think of what? Galamon pondered.

“Would your family… want this?”

Galamon’s mind spun, and his world of red shattered. He looked down and saw his brother, battered and broken, bleeding from the neck. The image slowly faded, and Argrave’s face replaced his brother’s.

Galamon tossed Argrave away and leapt back, in panic. He slammed his back against the house’s wall. Argrave crawled away, holding his still-bleeding neck.

“By Veid… I-I…” Galamon gingerly reached forward. Argrave stared at him with hollow gray eyes.

#####

Argrave watched Galamon. The unshakable elf was, for the first time Argrave had ever seen, panicking. He tried to think of something witty to say, but his neck stung, and his brain felt like it had a heavy fog over it. Lethargy threatened to consume him, his breathing was too fast, and he felt dreadfully weak. He blinked and bit his lips, knowing that sleeping here might mean his death.

Galamon rushed forward, reaching into Argrave’s satchel. He pulled free a stamina potion, and then held it to Argrave’s lips with trembling fingers. Argrave caught it with his teeth and tilted his head back. It did not make the pain diminish, nor stop the bleeding, but it did allow him to regain his focus.

Argrave used the last of his magic to cast healing magic, sealing the wound. Galamon collapsed backwards, staring at Argrave with an all-too-complicated expression. Panic, fear, guilt, anger… it was a veritable salad of regret.

Argrave sighed with a hoarse voice. “I knew you were dissatisfied,

was not my intent to…

know,” said Argrave. “I

very ominous now

run one hell of a blood drive. I hope I’m the right blood type for the donor.”

approach. It was very evident he was afraid

here to tell you you’re needed. Take your Ebonice axe, head to the gate. Anneliese

“But

kill us all if you don’t. Anneliese will explain things. Look for the beautiful woman with long white hair. Wait… you met her

I-I’m sorry. I never… my wound

I so graciously donated. You could probably use it better than me right now, anyway.” Argrave laid his head

for a time, Galamon picked up his Ebonice axe from where he’d dropped it, and then ran to

like those people that try to take wild animals as pets. Tigers are cool enough, sure, but eventually, they’ll remind you that they’re wild animals, just like vampires

to the ground. If I hadn’t been able to remember that Galamon’s family was the only thing keeping him

held against the side of the wall for support. His breaths were quick and rapid, and he could feel his heart struggling. He passed the corner of the house and fell against a barrel, holding himself up shakily. Ahead, the tomb guardians were walking through the gate. Galamon and a few other snow

them… is doing it wrong. He’s in line of sight.

to them, but the barrel moved and he stumbled, collapsing onto the grass. Things went

#####

metal. The snow elf commander refused to allow them to participate, citing that they were not as strong as Veidimen. Ryles assumed ‘Veidimen’ was what those abominable elves

the position of an advisor abruptly using the Mark of Monticci, and then enacted this ‘cooperation’ with the snow elves. The man had been willing to risk life and limb, so Ryles did not question that he came

Symon,” Ryles said quietly, staring at the

“Yes, Commander Ryles?”

“Take command. I am going to

“What, sir? Why?”

tell the duke what has transpired here. Something is off. Though

were doing battle with the metal creatures. He

the elves… perhaps it is not a coincidence. It is my duty to take this matter

#####

wake up!”

blinked open his eyes. He was

ready for school,” someone chided

don’t go to school,” Argrave answered. “I’m a fantasy man

the voice chided again. It was vaguely familiar—female,

to go to gym class. He ran around, the environment shifting around him. Everyone was staring at him. He realized he was

the gymnasium. It was wide, as colossal as a stadium. The bleachers were made of stone. Argrave remembered he had to get

the hearthplace where a fire raged. Argrave walked closer to them. They turned their